one last time
by Natsuhiboshi
Summary: Jean blinks a few times, heart aching, but he's here for a reason. "I'm gonna have to go soon," Marco says quietly. "But before I go, one last time, will you dance with me?"


**I had a lot of feelings. I don't think I've ever loved any characters as much as I love these three fools and so I figured I would contribute something, however little. I recommend, if you have the energy, to listen to Beyoncé's _I Was Here_ while reading this. That served as the driving force behind this work. Enjoy!**

**Dedicated to the lovely artist and gorgeous souled woman, Yuki119. **

* * *

_one last time_

* * *

It's been a long time.

And if Jean is being honest, it has been much too long. He's prolonged this for what seems like forever; running away from reality, a coward, his tail between his legs and eyes shut tight.

It takes him this long to realize that his fear has robbed him of so much; left him blind to all the beautiful things he could've seen if he had just been a little braver a lot sooner. It takes him this long to realize that he was so _desperate _to hold onto his memories of Marco —

_Of a face full of freckles, of laughter, of sunshine kisses that tasted like ice tea, of warm hands like a spring breeze and breathtaking 'I love yous' and playful winks and silly competitions racing each other around the rink and waiting, waiting, waiting for winter to come again so they could dance across the frozen lake and watch leaves shatter like broken glass around them and the world would rain stars, of gorgeous whiskey eyes glimmering like crystal cinnamon _—

That Jean completely bypasses the natural grieving process, and in doing so hardly does Marco the justice and love he deserved. Jean's throat closes and eyes burn, because even now, standing on the lake where he first met Marco Bodt, he barely even remembers what the other man looks like, unaided by the fading photograph he keeps in the box that holds a part of his heart.

Jean blinks a few times, heart aching, but he's here for a reason. Because the throb, the physical pain of Marco's absence that used to haunt him was just a sting now. It still hurt and Jean knows it always will, but he needs this because from now on he wants to remember Marco properly. He wants to remember and _smile _not wish for the impossible.

He wants Marco to be happy for him and most importantly, Jean wants to be happy for himself.

Because Marco wouldn't want anything less. Because Jean didn't deserve anything less.

Jean closes his eyes and concentrates.

He starts to remember small things that he thought he would never remember, like how the air smelled like vanilla that day or how he could hear the wise creak of barren tree branches bending beneath frozen water.

Marco stands in front of him, smiling, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards and eye crinkling.

"Took you long enough!" Marco laughs, voice soft and sweet and reminding Jean of the summers he spent in France as a child, surrounded by flowers and family and immeasurable happiness.

"Sorry," Jean says, and he's surprised that he doesn't stutter, doesn't choke, doesn't sob. "I had to figure some things out."

Marco's eyes are warm. "I know."

Jean is utterly aware of the ice beneath his skates but he doesn't want to shift, not yet, not until he tells Marco everything.

"I—I…" Jean starts, stops, and then swallows. Marco waits patiently. "I will always love you." Jean looks at him. "Always. There'll be things I'll see or hear or smell and I'll think of you and miss you and – fuck, Marco – I'll miss you forever. I didn't think I could ever love someone the way I loved you," Jean's breath hitches, "and I _don't_, I don't but I—I love Eren." He says the last part barely above a whisper.

Then Jean realizes what he's done and he says, stronger this time, "I love Eren." Jean swallows thickly, "And I just wanted you to know that because – because I didn't want you to think that I d-didn't love you anymore or that what we had didn't mean anything because it did, it meant _everything _but Eren… Eren, oh God, Marco, I love Eren so much and – shit. _Shit_, please don't hate me, don't hate me, Marco—Marco please—..."

"Jean," Marco says soothingly, reaching out to touch the other man's face, "Jean, Jean, ssshhh."

Jean is crying now, the tears hot on his face and his chest on fire but Marco isn't angry or bitter. "It's okay. It's okay." Marco brushes the tears away with his thumb and his touch is so warm, the gesture so unbelievably, undeniably Marco that Jean doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry harder. "Jean, why would you ever think it _wouldn't_ be okay? How could you think I wouldn't remember or doubt what we had?"

Marco laughs softly. "You big nerd. I know you love me. I love you too. But you love me differently. I'm grateful to have been loved by you at all. Don't you see?" Marco asks and his voice is so full of life, Jean almost doubts he's really gone. "This is wonderful. You get to live the rest of your life loving and being loved by someone just as amazing as you. You'll be happy, so happy, Jean. Why in the world would you ever apologize for that?"

Marco grins, the action lighting his face up exactly the way Jean remembers. "I'm so happy for you and I'm grateful to Eren for loving you as much, if not more, than I do. Thank you for telling me."

Jean nods and lets himself cry a little harder and Marco's arms are warm around him. The scent of firewood fills Jean's nostrils and it's Marco's scent alright but he can't tell if it's because Marco's really there, just for this moment, or if it's because Jean is wearing Marco's old turtleneck. He can't tell if the hug is really Marco or if it's just the feeling of where the soft cotton of the sweater has worn through.

He can't tell but he really doesn't fucking care. Not right now.

"I'm gonna have to go soon," Marco says quietly. "But before I go, one last time, will you dance with me?"

"Yes." Jean says, "Yes."

And that's when Jean shifts. He opens his eyes and they're burning but he glides with a familiarity he was sure he had lost.

The ice is smooth beneath his feet, the movements familiar, and Marco, even though Jean cannot see him, guides him. The air ruffles Jean's hair, kisses his cheeks, and he's flying just like how Marco taught him to.

He's starting to slow, the music in his veins coming to a close, and he can hear the voice he had once loved - and would always love - deep in his soul.

_Thank you._

Jean skids to a stop.

"Jean, it's cold. What the hell are you doing before the fucking break of dawn?"

Eren is standing on the edge of the lake, looking irritable but sounding affectionately exasperated. He's clutching on to Jean's winter coat, mouth tilted downwards but eyes shining with something Jean utterly adores.

"I was just remembering something." Jean says.

"Yeah, well, if you're done get over here, damnit. I missed you when I woke up," he mutters.

Jean laughs, his heart light, and he glides over to press a kiss on his boyfriend's mouth. "I love you."

Eren blushes, the tips of his ears turning red, "Yeah, yeah, I love you more. Now wear this jacket before you die of hypothermia."

Jean does and he intertwines his hand with Eren's.

They start to walk away, but Jean turns around. Just for a moment.

The air smells like vanilla and he can hear the wise creaking of barren tree branches bending beneath the weight of frozen water.

The sun breaks over the treetops, golden light spilling all over the lake, and everything is so beautiful.

He smiles.


End file.
